


There's No Seder Like Our Seder

by JetGirl1832, tomatopudding



Series: Friends Make Life A Lot More Fun [4]
Category: Rent - Larson
Genre: Canon Jewish Character, Friendship, Gen, Judaism, Kid Fic, Pesach | Passover, Pre-Canon, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-04
Updated: 2015-06-04
Packaged: 2018-04-02 18:45:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4070614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JetGirl1832/pseuds/JetGirl1832, https://archiveofourown.org/users/tomatopudding/pseuds/tomatopudding
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maureen attends her first passover at the Cohen house. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>April 16th, 1984</p>
            </blockquote>





	There's No Seder Like Our Seder

If Maureen's parents thought that forbidding her to go to Seder with Uncle Yoseph and Aunt Caroline, then they were sorely mistaken. She couldn't stand driving to Albany every year to sit around the dinner table for hours on end. Passover always sounded so fun when Mark talked about his family's Seder that she had jumped on the chance to join in. Roger had been going for years, so it was only right that she get a chance. Maureen smoothed down her skirt, making sure one last time that it reached at least her knees. Mark's sister already had a bad impression of her, thanks to the jealous bitches at school and that incident at Mark's Bar Mitzvah, and Maureen didn't want to increase that ill will by dressing the way she usually did outside the confines of school dress code. Holding the kosher for Passover chocolate covered jellies she had brought under the crook of her arm, Maureen rang the Cohens' doorbell.

Maureen heard a number of voices behind the door, namely Mrs. Cohen "Mark, honey would you get the door?" Moments later Mark appeared at the door looking bewildered, "You made it," he smiled.

Maureen just nodded her head as she walked in, “What's going on here?"

Mark shrugged his shoulders, "The usual Pre-Pesach Chaos," he replied rather calmly.

“Sounds fun,” Maureen deadpanned, “How’s Roger holding up?”

Mark laughed, "He's been helping mom cook all day, trying to sneak tastes of everything. I can't even count how many times mom had to smack his hands away from. The matzah ball soup."

Maureen grinned, "That sounds like Roger alright."

With a gesture, Mark brought her inside into the chaos. Cindy and some cousin were chattering in the corner while Mrs. Cohen scolded Roger for sticking his fingers where they didn't belong. The boisterous laughter of Mr. Cohen and his two brothers filled the food-warmed house while their wives and Mrs. Cohen's sister shared charoset recipes with glasses of wine in their hands.

"Already pre-gaming the four cups?" Maureen smirked as she watched them, "now I definitely see why you have more fun."

"I give it about five minutes before you get drafted into KP duty," Mark sighed.

"Ahh, Maureen you made it," Mrs. Cohen came into room, "do you think you could help me set the table?"

"Sure thing, Mrs. Cohen," Maureen replied. She handed off the candy to Mark and followed her into the dining room. There were sixteen chairs around the table, each one with a small piece of paper with a name on it. There was also a high chair at one end of the table.

There were stacks of bowls and plates on one end of the table along with a pile of neatly folded napkins. Maureen went to start with the dinner plates picking up a large stack before teetering slightly.

"Careful that's my mother's best china," Mark cautioned.

Maureen put the stack back down and picked up fewer this time, there was no way she wanted to risk breaking anything. Mrs. Cohen rarely got truly angry, but Maureen did not want to try her patience since she seemed to have already been run ragged.

Speaking of Mrs. Cohen, Maureen could hear her scolding Roger about stealing some morsel of food or another and Roger protesting unconvincingly. Shaking her head slightly, Maureen started in on the silverware, trying to remember which side the fork went on. Mark had disappeared at some point, probably to stop his mother from killing Roger.

Once she was done setting the table she stepped back and admired her handiwork. Not bad, not bad at all, Maureen smiled feeling quite pleased with herself. "See, I didn't break anything." Maureen proclaimed when Roger and and Mark entered the dining room.

"There's a first time for everything," Roger teased.

"Fork's on the wrong side," Cindy said, breezing through on her way to the kitchen.

"Damn," Maureen said.

"Well, I guess you're uninvited," Mark sighed, "See ya."

"You're hilarious," Maureen dead panned. She pounced on him and dragged him into a headlock, ruffling his hair.

"Cut it out," Mark complained.

"He worked hard on that hair," huffed Roger teasingly.

"I bet," Maureen grinned as she let go of him, "actually I think it looks better this way."

"You know, Mark I think she's right," Roger smiled.

"Yeah yeah," grumbled Mark, glaring at them, "I don't know why I let you get away with this shit."

"Ooo," Roger and Maureen chorused in a sing-song manner.

"Are you even old enough to use that kind of language?" Maureen asked.

Mark's face went red with embarrassment, he seemed like he was about to retaliate when his father walked in.

"Alright, lets get this started since we would all like to be out of here by midnight!" he declared.

"Where's the fun in that?" Roger asked.

Mr. Cohen let out a hearty laugh and hooked his arm around Roger's shoulders, "Sometimes I think that you're a bad influence on my boy."

"Would I do that?" Roger asked with mock insolence, "Never!"

"Always," Maureen said at the same time.

"Maureen," Mr. Cohen declared as if he had just noticed her there, "How's your grandmother? I heard that she has hip replacement surgery last month."

Maureen paused for a moment, "Uhhh... I think she's fine?" she replied, usually those sorts of questions were directed at her parents not her. She glanced around trying to find the paper that designated her spot for the evenings festivities, it looked like Roger was on one side of her and Mark on the other. It might be harder than she thought to stay on her best behavior.

****  
  
  


"Excellent," Roger said when he saw their seats, rubbing his hands together like some kind of evil mastermind.

"My mom must like you," Mark said, "the first time Roger came to Seder she made him sit next to my dad."

"That was awful," Roger sighed recalling the memory.

"What can I say, it must be my charm," Maureen grinned, "something the two of you clearly lack."

"Hey!" Roger frowned, "I have plenty of charm."

"Does anyone other than your mother agree with that statement?" Maureen asked.

"I shouldn't need to use charm," Mark piped in, "I'm her son, so I automatically get the love and affection."

"Plenty of people!" Roger responded to Maureen, speaking over Mark, "Well, plenty of girls anyway."

"Less than you'd think," scoffed Maureen.

"That's what you think," Roger replied with a smirk.

"Roger Davis I have eyes, and I know these things," Maureen replied.

"Will you two stop trying to outdo each other?" Mark sighed.

"Never," the two said in unison and Mark shuddered.

"I'm not sure which is scarier," he told them, "the two of you arguing or the two of you agreeing."

Any continuation to the conversation was cut off by Mr. Cohen calling the Seder to order. This was already much more fun than being at her aunt and uncle’s house, a feeling which only solidified when Mr. Cohen started with a song. It wasn’t the droning prayer-like song she was used to. It was more upbeat and tuneful, with everybody singing along rather than just listening to the Seder leader. It took Maureen several moments to realize that the song was going over the list of the Seder order. The melody was pretty simple, so Maureen found herself unconsciously joining in.

The first glass of wine quickly followed and Maureen found her cup filled halfway with Manischewitz sweet wine, which was then cut with a healthy dollop of grape juice.

“My dad only lets us have the wine with the first glass,” Mark explained as he poured for her, “for the rest, anyone under 21, which also includes all  of my cousins except my Cousin Sam although he’s away at college now, is confined to grape juice.”

When he turned away to pour for the uncle who was sitting beside him, Roger whispered, “Last year, I started giving him wine with all of the cups.”

“Roger,” Maureen scolded, but she was grinning, “Don’t you remember what happened last time you got Mark drunk?”

“Yeah, it was hilarious,” he replied, “But come on, even Mark can’t get drunk on Maniscewitz.”

Maureen considered this for a moment, then nodded, “True.”

By the time they got to the portion of the Seder where the Passover story was recited, the mood in the room was very high. Maureen was having much more fun than she would have ever thought that she could have at a Seder. Near the beginning of that portion of the Seder, the Four Questions were asked, questions regarding the night of Seder and why it was different than all other nights. The Questions were traditionally sung by the youngest person at the Seder, a subject that was apparently highly contested at the Cohen table.

“But we’re the same age,” Mark protested, yelling down the table at his cousin Lindsay.

“Nuh uh,” Lindsay yelled back, “I’m older.”

“By a month,” scoffed Mark.

“A whole month,” Lindsay countered.

Based on the looks that went around the table, this exact same argument happened every year and, based on the resigned way Mark clambered up to stand on his chair, Mark always lost.

Maureen’s aunt and uncle were modern Orthodox, so they would recite every single part of the story from the Torah from start to finish. At the Cohen’s Seder, it was more like Kindergarten story time, complete with various cousins acting out parts of the story and physical demonstrations of the ten plagues. Maureen enjoyed throwing toy frogs and cotton balls simulating hail at Roger’s head, although he did retaliate in the form of putting a plastic fly in her hair during the plague of lice. Even Cindy, who was the oldest of the cousins present, couldn’t resist dramatically dying for the tenth plague, the death of the first born.

With the second cup of wine being drunk, the meal portion of the Seder began. Roger was apparently on serving duty as well as cooking duty, so he and Mrs. Cohen brought his dish after dish of food to set around the table, serving everyone a big bowl of matzah ball soup first. In the fashion of every Jewish family, the dinner table was loud and boisterous, with everybody trying to talk over everyone else and about ten different conversations happening at once.

Mr. Cohen’s father was going on about how things had been different when he led Seder while Mr. Cohen tried to remind him multiple times that he hadn’t led Seder in years.

Uncle Robby and Cousin Jeremy were discussing the merits of sinkers and floaters, referring to matzah balls of course, while Mrs. Cohen shouted across them giving Robby’s wife tips about their newly-weaned baby, who was currently happily mashing peas into the table of her high chair.

Maureen watched with amusement at Roger topped off Mark’s glass with wine one more time, trying to hold in her laughter when she saw Mr. Cohen catching him. Roger froze and gave Mark’s dad a sheepish grin. After a moment, Mr. Cohen simply winked, smiled, and turned his gaze away. Taking it as the approval that it was, Roger slid the glass over to Mark.

After the meal, everything seemed to go inordinately quickly. They were drinking the third cup of wine and singing prayers and other songs, most of the faces around the table flushed with alcohol. Mr. Cohen simply got louder and louder, his substantial cantorial voice rising above the rest. When it came time to open the door for the Prophet Elijah, the cousins all bounded to the front door, with Roger and Maureen in their midst. As they stood there singing Elijah’s song, Maureen could see Mark slowly start to tip backwards, but he was saved from falling by Roger, who came up behind him and slid a supporting arm around Mark’s shoulders.

“You got me drunk again,” Maureen heard Mark hiss.

“Who, me?” Roger asked innocently, pulling Mark in closer, “Never.”

The last couple resounding songs came too soon for Maureen’s liking and as the various relations started packing up to leave, she found herself at a loss. Her parents probably wouldn’t be done for another two hours or so and she didn’t have a house key.

“Come on, Mo Mo,” Roger said, bumping Maureen’s shoulder with his own, “we’re gonna go crash in Marky’s room.”

The three of them fell asleep in a tangle of limbs on Mark’s bed.

 

**Author's Note:**

> This story is based off of personal experiences at our own family Seders.


End file.
